


Snowed In

by emphasisonem



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Smutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:04:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ok, keep it together, Steve,” the blond whispers to himself as he towels dry, glancing at his reflection in the fogged mirror. “You’re just sharing a bed. With your best friend. Who you want to kiss. It’s fine. This is fine.”</p><p>This is <i>not</i> fine.</p><p> <b>In which Steve and Bucky hit a snowstorm on their way home for winter break and end up in a hotel room with one bed.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowed In

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffy little oneshot for a tumblr user who wanted a fluffy and maybe sexy bed-sharing fic. I hope I delivered :)

Steve manages a weak smile as the middle-aged woman behind the desk at a Holiday Inn in Allentown, Pennsylvania grins at him. Her hair’s that wildly unnatural purplish-red color a certain type of woman in her mid-fifties seems to favor, but her smile is kind and she really is trying to help them. Them being Steve and Bucky.

“You’re in luck,” the woman tells Steve as Bucky sidles up beside him with two styrofoam cups of coffee from the snack bar in the lobby. Steve accepts the one Bucky holds out to him, smiling gratefully at his friend. “We’ve got one room left. Bet you’ll be glad not to have to go back out in that, huh?” The woman, whose nametag reads ‘Sherri,’ grins and gestures out at the streets blanketed in white.

The snowfall hadn’t been bad at first, but the light dusting that started when they’d left the University of Pittsburgh that afternoon had turned into heavy, wet flakes of snow. Road conditions had deteriorated pretty rapidly after that. By the time they’d pulled into the hotel parking lot, Steve’s knuckles had been white and he’d begun to shake. Bucky’d managed to talk him down from what had seemed like an inevitable panic attack and they’d gone inside to try and get a room for the night.

“Oh, you bet,” Bucky chirps from beside Steve. “How much?”

“Well, it’s a King Suite, so it’s a little more expensive than our standard,” Sherri grins apologetically. “It’ll be $169.”

Steve reaches for his wallet, but Bucky smacks his hand away. He’s smirking, but his steely gray eyes are stern, and Steve knows better than to argue when his friend’s wearing that particular expression.

“You’ve driven me home every break for the past three and half years, Rogers,” Bucky deadpans. “I think I can handle taking care of the room. Go sit down. Call your mom.”

Steve nods and slips away from the desk, pulling out his cell. Sarah Rogers’s voice is near-frantic when she answers his call. Steve apologizes, explaining how bad the roads were, how he’d been afraid that if he’d pulled over to call her he might not be able to get the car moving again. He’s fine, he assures her, they both are. They’ve got a room for the night and he’ll call her first thing in the morning to let her know if it’s safe enough to get back on the road.

“Come on.” Steve’s eyes snap up and there’s Bucky with a key card in his hand and a gentle smile on his face. “Let’s get you into some sweatpants and order the most unhealthy stuff we can find on the room service menu.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and follows his friend to the elevator banks.

 

* * *

 

“Oh.” Steve’s voice cracks a little on that one syllable, and Bucky turns, taking in the tense set of his shoulders and furrowed brow. Bucky’s having a fairly similar internal reaction, but he just smiles. He’d been so grateful that there’d been a place for them to sleep, that they wouldn’t have to go back out into the storm, that he hadn’t even really considered the implication of a King Suite.

“It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before, Stevie,” Bucky grins as he turns and walks backward into the room, watching his friend roll his eyes as he steps through the threshold. Bucky’s glad that his voice comes out steady and even because he feels as nervous as Steve looks right now. The idea of sharing a bed with Steve, who he’s been at least half in love with since they were seniors in high school, has his stomach doing somersaults.

“We haven’t done that since we were like twelve, Buck,” Steve snarks. “We’re a lot bigger now.”

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking. “It’s a king-size bed, Rogers. I think we’ll manage. Unless you wanna banish your best friend to a cot or something. I can call down to the front desk. Oh, or I could just push these chairs in the sitting area together and pretend I’m sleeping on a couch.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and tosses his duffel bag on the left side of the bed, then unzips and starts rummaging through it. “I guess it would be sort of heartless to keep you from a perfectly good bed. Do you need the bathroom? I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“I’m good,” Bucky smiles. “I’ll order us up some food.”

Bucky calls his parents and gives them an update; he’d been texting them throughout the trip, so it’s a short conversation. Then he calls the front desk, ordering two cheeseburgers, fries, a couple of beers and slices of cheesecake. If there’s anything that sets Steve at ease, it’s comfort food.

Bucky knows this because he knows Steve almost as well as he knows himself. They’ve been friends since their first day in kindergarten, inseparable for nearly two decades. Some people might call them codependent; Bucky calls them devoted.

Except devoted’s usually a word you use when two people are deeply in love. And as well as he knows Steve, Bucky’s not sure Steve feels the way he does. He suspects. He hopes. But he doesn’t _know._

Maybe, Bucky thinks as he pulls on sweats and a hoodie, he should try to find out. After all, it’s nearly Christmas and they’re snowed in. Has a romantic sort of flair to it.

The sound of running water stops, and Bucky smiles.

 

* * *

 

“Ok, keep it together, Steve,” the blond whispers to himself as he towels dry, glancing at his reflection in the fogged mirror. “You’re just sharing a bed. With your best friend. Who you want to kiss. It’s fine. This is fine.”

This is _not_ fine.

Bucky is loud, confident and full of swagger. He flirts with just about everybody, and he has fun doing it. He could get any guy or girl he wants.

Steve’s not an idiot. He knows people look at him a certain way because he’s tall and blond and built well. But then he opens his mouth, stuttering and blushing and making a fool of himself. Steve is shy and uncertain, completely lost when it comes to making a move on someone he likes.

Of course ‘like’ doesn’t really begin to describe the way Steve feels about his friend. Love. Now, that’s a word that’s much closer to the truth. Bucky has been there for Steve for as long as he can remember. Through his sickly childhood and the death of his father. Through their awkward teen phases (although Steve’s fairly certain Bucky’s only lasted about two weeks, while his dragged on for more like two years). Bucky is one of a handful of constants in Steve’s life.

So naturally, the thought of telling Bucky how he feels and potentially fucking everything up fills him with a dread so heavy he can barely breathe.

And sharing a bed is certainly not going to help Steve’s constant urge to just pull Bucky into his arms and kiss him until Steve’s not sure where his body ends and Bucky’s begins. He wants to know what Bucky’s mouth feels against his, what his long-fingered hands feel like against his skin. God, he _wants_.

“This is fine,” Steve whispers as he pulls on some comfortable clothes, taking a deep breath before he twists the handle and steps out into the hotel room.

 

* * *

 

On the surface, it’s like any other night Bucky’s spent hanging out with Steve. They eat their room service while half-watching some dystopian teen drama on basic cable. They chat about their plans for Christmas, the things they want to do and the people they should hang out with when they get back to Brooklyn. Bucky tries to wheedle a hint out of Steve about what he got him for Christmas; Steve just laughs and shakes his head.

On the surface, everything seems fine, but Bucky can feel the strange electricity coursing between them. Steve’s anxious and a little aloof, and it worries Bucky.

“You ok?” he whispers later that night after he’s turned off the bedside lamp and curled beneath the blankets.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, but it’s not convincing. “Just tired. Still a little keyed up about the weather, I guess.”

“Everything will be fine,” Bucky reaches out and places a hand on his friend’s arm, but Steve jerks back, and that stings a hell of a lot more than Bucky’d ever anticipated it would.

“Yeah,” Steve rolls onto his side, facing away from Bucky. “Night.”

“Night,” Bucky whispers, more than a little bewildered by the sudden distance between them. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift into a thin, uneasy sleep.

When he wakes, the room is still dark and the bright green numbers on the digital clock read 2:43. Bucky’s warm, too warm, and there’s a strange weight wrapped around his body. With a jolt, he realizes it’s Steve. The blond is curled up against his side, an arm thrown across Bucky’s waist, their legs tangled. Bucky can feel Steve’s breath against his neck and can’t stop a shudder from rolling through his body.

Steve shifts, and holy _shit_ , he’s hard against Bucky’s thigh. Bucky sucks in a breath, trying desperately not to move. It’s hard, though, because all he wants to do is press against Steve, to roll his hips against the other man, to take Steve’s cock in his hand and stroke.

Bucky looks down at Steve again and blinks rapidly when he sees the other man’s blue eyes, still half asleep, staring up at him. Steve leans up, tangling a hand in Bucky’s dark hair, pulling until their lips meet and _oh, yes_. Bucky cups a hand against Steve’s face, kissing back, savoring the taste of his friend.

And just as suddenly as it started, the kiss is over and Steve is scrambling away from him, his breathing heavy and his eyes wide.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Steve whispers, touching his lips like he can’t believe what he’s just done.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god.” Steve cannot believe what he’s just done. He’d woken up in Bucky’s embrace, warm and sleepy. And then his friend’s silver eyes had been looking down at him, soft and kind, and Steve just.

God, he just kissed his best friend and everything is ruined now.

“Buck,” Steve begins. “I’m - _fuck_ \- I’m really sorry. I didn’t… I was half asleep and I just-”

“Steve,” Bucky scoots over, grabbing Steve’s arm before he can leap out of the bed. “Hey, Stevie, relax. It’s ok. It’s better than ok.”

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Steve groans, pulling his arm away but staying put. “God, I should have just called down for the cot. I fucked up everything.”

“You did not fuck up everything!” Bucky exclaims. “Or did you not notice that I was kissing you back?”

“You were kissing me back?” Steve whispers, and as he says it aloud he realizes that _yes_ , the lips he’s been fantasizing about for god knows how long had been moving soft and gentle against his own, _holy shit._

“You were kissing me back,” Steve breathes, pulling Bucky forward and wrapping his arms around the brunet. “Bucky, how do you feel about me?”

“Honestly?” Bucky grins as Steve pulls him  close. “I think I might be in love with you.”

Steve doesn’t even hesitate before launching himself as Bucky, pinning the brunet between his body and the mattress, and capturing his lips in a desperate kiss.

 

* * *

 

Steve is a force of nature as he kisses Bucky. He’s a wildfire, singeing Bucky with his heat, setting his nerves aflame and sucking the oxygen from his lungs. He’s a tidal wave, crashing over Bucky, overwhelming his senses, drowning him as his hands map the dips and hollows of his body. He’s a tornado, his touch leaving Bucky a shaking, shivering mess, laying waste to every single kiss that came before his.

“God,” Steve gasps as he pulls back. “I think I love you too. I think maybe I always have.”

“Steve,” Bucky keens as the blond’s hands work their way down his body, one of them sliding past the elastic of his sweatpants. “Steve, please.”

Steve pulls away, rolling out of the bed, and Bucky whines at the loss of the blond’s warmth. He rummages around in his duffel bag and crawls back into bed once his hands close around the bottle he's looking for, opening it as he scoots closer to Bucky. Then, Steve’s pushing Bucky’s sweats down, coating his hand with lube and wrapping a strong hand around Bucky’s cock.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans. “Oh, fuck Steve, _yes."_ Steve lies down facing Bucky, large blue eyes focusing on his own, and Bucky’s drowning in those twin oceans. Bucky moves closer, kissing Steve, pushing the blond's pants down and fumbling for the bottle of lube that’s fallen between them. The noise Steve makes as Bucky begins to stroke him is something between a sob and a moan, and Bucky wants _more._ He wants everything Steve will give him. He wants all of this man.

“Hold on,” Steve gasps as he pulls back, and Bucky whines again. Steve chuckles. “Shoulda known you’d be impatient.”

“I’m always impatient,” Bucky huffs, breath catching in his throat as Steve pulls off his t-shirt, exposing his broad shoulders and the toned planes of his chest and stomach. “Why would this be any different?”

“I like that you’re impatient,” Steve breathes, tugging at the hem of Bucky’s shirt, pulling it off as Bucky raises his arms. “I like everything about you.”

“Ditto, Stevie,” Bucky grins. “Now do me a favor and get back to kissing me.”

Steve giggles, shaking his head as he pulls Bucky close, lips moving languidly against Bucky’s. Their initial desperation has mellowed a little, but Bucky doesn’t think it’ll take much to get them back to that state. Bucky wraps his hand around Steve’s cock, stroking again, and Steve’s hips stutter forward.

“Can’t wait to fuck you, Rogers,” Bucky growls, liking the way Steve shivers against him, and loving the stubborn flash of Steve’s eyes as he wraps his own hand around Bucky’s cock.

“What makes you think you’ll be fucking me, Barnes?” Steve rasps, and fuck _yes_ , Bucky is absolutely on board with that idea. “I’m gonna make you _scream_.”

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, back arching. “God, talk more. Please keep talking. Tell me what you wanna do to me.”

Even through the haze of lust, Bucky still has the presence of mind to marvel over how much Steve must trust him because he’s seen Steve try to talk about sex before. He’s generally an awkward, stuttering ball of adorable, but that Steve is not here in this bed with him.

“Gonna get you on your knees, Buck,” Steve groans, batting Bucky’s hand away. He lines their cocks up against each other, and then his hand is stroking both of them. “Can’t wait to feel your mouth on me.”

“Jesus, _yes_ ,” Bucky moans, placing his hand on Steve’s, urging the blond on. “Keep going, Stevie.”

“Gonna open you up,” Steve rasps. “Gonna use my tongue and my fingers. Get you nice and wet and ready for me.”

Bucky’s practically sobbing now. “Steve, _please_.”

“God, Buck, so beautiful,” Steve moans. “I’m so close. Come with me, Buck.”

“Fuck,” Bucky groans as Steve increases his pace and as much as he wants this to last, he knows he can’t hold out much longer. “Oh fuck, oh _god,_ _Steve.”_

And then Bucky’s orgasm is slamming through him and he can feel Steve shudder against him, the blond’s release mixing with his own.

 

* * *

 

“How long?” Steve whispers as Bucky lies in his arms, the brunet’s head resting on his chest.

“I don’t know exactly,” Bucky replies. “I mean, I’ve always loved you, Steve. You’re my best friend. I guess we were in high school when I realized it was more than platonic.”

“Fuck, we’re idiots,” Steve huffs out a laugh, tightening his grip on Bucky. “Could have been doing this for years.”

Bucky tilts his chin up, a mischievous glint in his stormy eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, Rogers.”

And then Bucky’s kissing him, gentle and coaxing and so sweet Steve could cry.  

“I guess we will,” Steve breathes as Bucky begins trailing kisses along his jawline and down his neck.

Steve guesses this whole snowstorm thing’s not so bad after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Also, if you're interested, you can follow me on [ tumblr](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/) and distract me with fic suggestions. I love ideas. Seriously.


End file.
